Turbulence
by orangetulips
Summary: Oneshot for Puckleberry Week on Tumblr. On their way to Nationals senior year, Rachel finds out an interesting secret about Puck. *Turned into a Chapter story! With Smut! And language!*
1. Turbulence

_A/N:__ Another oneshot for Puckleberry Week on tumblr! Today's theme was Road Trips. Everything up to episode 3x16 is included, except I changed them from going to Nationals in Chicago to Miami._

_Disclaimer__: I sadly do not own Glee or Puck or Rachel or anything. Wah._

ENJOY! And thank you times a kajillion for all your awesome reviews and comments and I love you all!

(PS Tumblr? Come visit me – gleekalyze dot tumblr dot com, or on LJ – orangetulips25 dot livejournal dot com). Yay!

Turbulence

Noah Puckerman is a badass, ok? He's not afraid of shit. He's been doing crazy shit since he was 5, like when he did the whole poprocks and soda thing or when he used his ma's hairspray can to make a blowtorch. Or when he licked (_licked_) that homeless guy in front of the ShopRite. Or hung upside down on the train tressel.

He just fucking hates planes, alright?

Fucking.

Hates.

Planes.

They're on their way from Ohio to Miami for Nationals this year and he is excited as fuck to get his ass in the sand and see some boobs. Cause Miami has topless motherfucking beaches and he is ready for those topless motherfucking beaches.

If he survives the plane ride first.

He usually swipes a Xanax or two from his mom and a double dose of Dramamine, and his stomach stays in one piece and he doesn't go all Twilight Zone on the joint. And he did that last year on the flight to and from New York and he was a-fucking-ok. But this time he was in such a rush that he packed the Xanax and Dramamine in his regular checked suitcase and not his carry-on and fuck his life he's going to fucking die before he sees_topless_ motherfucking _beaches_.

He's sitting with Sam on the plane, but Sam went to switch seats with Tina so he could poke Mercedes and be all five-year-old flirty with her and then Tina switched with Artie so she could sit next to Mike and Artie came to sit by him but Wheels needs a wheelchair seat so he now is sitting in the back of the plane and thank Moses that means he has his own seat with no one next to him.

Because no one is going to want to sit next to his dead body when he fucking dies on this fucking plane because everyone else will be alive and he will be fucking dead on the damn plane and the topless motherfucking beaches.

Fuck his life.

***

In the next to last row of the cabin, Rachel is sitting next to Kurt, who is sulking because he wanted to sit next to Blaine. But Blaine is with Finn, and the last thing Rachel wants to do is sit next to Finn. They're on amicable terms, but ever since they mutually decided that marriage was not a good idea for them (right now, at least) things were strained and the relationship fizzled out.

She's still mourning the demise of her relationship with Finn. And she's kind of forgotten how to be Rachel, as opposed to RachelandFinn. So realistically, even though it makes Kurt angry, she knows sitting next to Finn for a three hour plane ride is not conducive to the "Reclaim Rachel Barbra Berry: The Three Month Plan" that she has outlined in her focus notebook.

They're taxiing on the runway and Rachel begins to regret the three cups of chamomile tea she drank in the terminal before takeoff in an effort to relax. She unbuckles her seatbelt and makes her way to the bathroom. Of course she's in one of the last rows of the cabin and the bathroom is in the front, but she's sure she can make it back in time before the mandatory seatbelt sign comes back on.

Rachel Berry likes rules and she's sure that, if she follows the rules, fate will not allow her bladder to explode.

On her way back to her seat she sees Noah, who is a not-so-lovely shade of green. "Oh my, Noah, are you ok?" She asked. "I told you not to eat the bean burritos in the terminal -"

"Ma'am, you need to be in your seat right now we are about to take off." The flight attendant appeared out of nowhere.

She gives (a quick look at the flight attendant's nametag) Lorna her winningest smile. "Sure thing, Lorna, I am on my way, my seat is just right over there." She points to row 23.

"Miss, seat 4A over here is available, please sit and buckle your seatbelt now," Lorna retorts. "You can switch back after the captain has deluminated the 'fasten seatbelt' sign."

She finds being cool, calm, and collected in these situations (and continuing to smile) will usually yield the most positive results. "Yes, well, Lorna, in the amount of time it takes for us to have this conversation, I could have been in my seat already, so if you just excuse me," She moves to sidestep Lorna, the flight attendant of awfulness.

"Take. This. Seat." Lorna orders.

Rachel Berry likes rules. So she obeys and flops down next to Noah. Who is still green.

"Um, Noah, are you alright?" She touches his arm gingerly.

He grimaces. "Are we taking off yet?"

"No, not just yet, I mean, we will shortly." She buckles her seatbelt and goes to rest her arms on the shared armrest, but Noah's knuckles were turning white, he was gripping it so hard.

She looked at him with wide eyes. "Noah? Are you…_afraid_ of flying?" She asked incredulously as the propellers began to give off a dull hum. She's sure she is wrong and misinterpreting things. He was fine on the plane to New York last year. And he's _Noah Puckerman_, for heaven's sake.

"Shut the hell up, I swear to God, Berry, if you tell anyone I will fucking…"

"Noah! You _are_ afraid!" She actually smiles and if he wasn't busy talking himself down from the ledge he would have….done nothing, because he's not a violent asshole. But he sure as hell would have told her to fuck off, or something.

"I just….I just fucking hate flying. My stomach belongs in my damn stomach and not in a heap at the bottom of my fucking toenails," He squinches his eyes shut. "And I'm usually fine 'cause I take a Xanax and it calms me the fuck down and I'm not freaking the fuck out like a pussy, but I packed them in my suitcase by accident."

The plane accelerates. Rachel puts her hand on Puck's white knuckles and starts to gently rub her fingertips on his hand.

The plane's nose tips upward and his stomach drops into his feet and without a moment's thought he grabs Rachel's hand and grips it tight.

Holy cow, he has one heck of a grip, Rachel thinks to herself. And it's really….

Sexy.

What? Where did that come from? She shakes her head to throw the thought out of it. Noah's having a mental breakdown and she's busy thinking about his hands gripping her hips and -

RACHEL. Stop that.

She bites her lip because she thinks Noah may have just broken her pinkie finger. He's breathing slowly as the plane evens out. "Are….are you ok?" She asks hesitantly.

"Yes. No. Fuck. I fucking hate fucking flying."

"Wh-what don't you like about it?" His hand is still gripping hers. Hand that could be gripping her ankle as it trails kisses along her calf -

_RACHEL._

"My stomach feels like it's in my fucking ankles right now."

She clicks her tongue. "Burritos."

"I didn't have any fucking burritos, Rachel," He spat the words out. "I just…I just hate fucking flying and I'm probably going to puke all over you."

She goes into crisis mode. "Ok, well, why don't you put your head between your legs?"

"Why don't _you_ put _your_head between _my_ legs?" He counters back with.

"Well, I can see you're not in that much dire straits if you can make a sexual innuendo."

"If these are going to be my last moments of life before everyone in this fucking airplane drowns in my vomit, Imma try to get a blowjob from Rachel Berry."

She sighs. And momentarily considers the invitation. For a split second. Because she's sure his legs are as strong as this grip on her hand -

Ra. Chel. She should just give up admonishing herself, because she has no clue why, all of a sudden, she's completely and utterly turned on by Noah Puckerman. Noah Puckerman, who, with all of his sexual jokes and comments and touches and jawline and those muscular arms and…

And all those items don't get her blood flowing but the minute he shows his vulnerability?

She wants to jump on top of him like a cat in heat.

Unless he throws up. That might stop her.

He lets go of her hand and puts his head down on the tray table. She starts rubbing his back and hears his breath start to even out a little bit.

"I don't like roller coasters or anything where you go from top to bottom because my stomach fucking belongs in my stomach." He explains, his voice muffled by his arms (his arms, my God, his arms, she thinks). "And I usually take Dramamine and Xanax and it calms everything down but…fuck my life."

She continues to rub circles on his back soothingly. This other side of Noah, seeing him this…exposed…she's never seen this part of him before. "Just take deep breaths," She coaxes him.

She can feel his back muscles relax under his white t shirt. She moves to rub his arm, partially selfishly because she wants to feel his bicep but partially just to change course and get his tension to loosen.

She hears him sigh contentedly. "Feeling better." She glides her fingertips up and down his forearm.

Her toes are tingling at the sound of his sigh. Why are her toes tingling? Why was that sigh so…hot? Stop it, Rachel, this can't end well. You just broke up with Finn. You're on a plane, a very public plane with Tina and Mike sleeping across the aisle and Mr. Schue sitting behind you.

She should go back to her seat.

No, she needs Noah, she means, she needs _to help_ Noah, yes, right,_help_ Noah, and she can't just leave him, right?

No, that wouldn't be right. Right? Right.

So she continues to rub his arm and tries to ignore the burning feeling in the pit of her stomach.

He sighs again. "Thanks, Rach." He cradles his head in his arms and closes his eyes. "I'm gonna try to go to sleep, I'm a lot calmer now."

She smiles, even though he can't see it.

"You can go back to your seat." He says with a yawn.

"It's ok," she whispers. The Fasten Seatbelts Sign goes off, signaling that she can get up now. "I'll stay here for a bit….they…um…they still have the seatbelt sign on, so I really shouldn't move anyways."

"M'kay," He yawns. "If you fucking tell anyone…" his voice trails off.

"Not a word."

Rachel looks over at Noah, taking him in. His head is nestled in his arms (those _arms_), his face away from her. She takes her ipod out of her pocket and begins to listen to one of her playlists, but can't get that burning feeling out of her stomach; she can only silence it to a dull broil.

She's sure he's asleep right now. Sure of it.

So she brushes her fingers over his hand and she's sure, she's _sure_ that, when he very slightly, ever so gently wraps his fingers around her hand, it must just be an involuntary reaction in his sleep.

His head is facing the window, his eyes are closed, he's halfway asleep, but when he feels Rachel's fingers ghost over his, he doesn't think, he just holds her hand back, and he grins into the darkness of his eyelids.

Dramamine is way overrated.

***

Around 11pm that night, after they're all settled into their hotel in Miami and Mr. Schue finishes room checks, Rachel is changing into her pajamas and beginning her bedtime regime. They're supposed to be going to sleep right now, but Tina, her roommate, was trying to sneak into the room Mike was staying in. She's sure this won't end well and Mr. Schue will come barreling into the room any second now.

She hears a knock on the door and braces herself for the teacher's inevitable wrath. Rules are rules.

But when she opens the door, she's greeted with a grinning Noah, in a white t shirt and basketball shorts, leaning against the doorjamb.

"So the hotel's experiencing some turbulence this evening and I'm not sure I'm going to be able to handle it without my Dramamine…"


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N:** I know I originally said this was a one shot, but it grew. I couldn't help myself! Thank you so much guys, for reading and reviewing and being awesome! MWAH!_

_**Disclaimer:** I do not own Glee or Puck or Rachel. Sads._

**Turbulence, Part 2**

He knows Rachel Berry molested his arm. And his back. And, shit, she actually _did _calm him down with her rubbing and stuff. He's not into all that homeopathic/homoerectus/homowhatever bullshit but fuck if she actually did a better job than the Xanax and Dramamine.

Although it could also be that her rubbing and shit got his brain calm and then his dick was all and so the last thing he could focus on was the plane crashing. But regardless...he hadn't felt so calm in like, months.

And then he was still awake and _she_ held his hand when he knew that she_ thought_ he was asleep.

It's senior year. It's their last chance, at Nationals, at grades, at friendships...at everything. So, yeah, he held her hand back. Because it's his last chance at Rachel, and fuck if he's going to go all fucking Carpe Diem and at least try.

Because Rachel's always been...something. She's not a random Cheeri-ho. She's not a cougar. She's not a one night stand. She's...she's just _Rachel_. But, not_ just_ Rachel, at the same time. She's something special, something that he could...

She's never made him out to be this fuckawful human being that everyone else thinks he is and she doesn't judge him for his fuck up mistakes and she always _smiles_ at him and nobody _really_ _fucking smiles_ at him. And something about her and how she's all damn sparkly all the time and he just doesn't know what it is but he just wants Rachel and not in that one night stand way but in an "it's ok if we cuddle cause it means I just get to hold you" and no he did not say that but fuck you maybe he was fucking thinking it like all the time when he sees her and shut the fuck up.

He just wants to try, ok? Cause she's finally not Finn's, and she's always been Finn's, and even when she wasn't Finn's she still was Finn's, and it's his fucking turn already. And if there was a glimmer of hope, just a tiny glimmer like her holding his hand, he's going to fucking take it and spark that shit into a full blown forest fire if he could help it.

So maybe his approach wasn't the most...sensitive? Smart? But it was logical, cause Tina did storm his room and all, and he didn't want to listen to sex all night, especially if he wasn't the one having it.

***

"NOAH!" She whisper-screamed, pulling him into the hotel room, looking into the hallway afterwards, and slamming the door. "WHAT are you DOING here?"

_?_

He grinned. "Visiting."

"You are going to get us in so much trouble, do you know Mr. Schue will be here any minute because Tina just snuck out to go to Mike's room and now you are putting me in danger and what if Mr. Schue doesn't let me compete at Nationals tomorrow and, oh God, my career will be over and-"

"Chill your crazypants, Berry," Puck laughed. "Schue's in his room with Miss Pillsbury. They ain't leavin any time soon; I saw the room service dude go knock on their door a few minutes ago."

Rachel flopped down on her bed with one hand across her forehead like she was a fucking damsel in distress or something. "Fine. But this is still a bad idea, Noah. Can you please go back to your room now? I'm about to go to sleep."

_Don't leave._

"What a coincidence, so am I," He gestured exaggeratedly to the non-occupied full size bed. "Unfortunately a small Asian named Tina snuck into my room and her and Mike are currently doing the nasty and, sadly, I have no place to lay my head." He gave her puppy dog eyes.

"NOT. HERE."

_Yes. Here._

"C'mon, Rach, they're going at it like fucking jackrabbits!"

"What makes you think here was safer then, say, Finn and Sam's room?"

_Please don't go to another room._

"Finn snores like a fucking lumberjack," He replies seriously. "I need my beauty sleep."

"NOAH."

_I apparently have lost any self restraint around you. _

"There're two beds," He pointed out. "No funny business."

She sighed. "Fine," She replies, trying to play aggravated. "I'm setting my alarm for 5am, you will leave to sneak back to your room by then. I refuse to have anyone catch us in the same room together and hereby threaten my reputation."

_And I may jump on top of you._

_What? Rachel. Stop that train of thought._ She scolds herself.

"Done." He yawned and crawled into the bed she was currently laying on.

"NOAH! This is my bed!"

_But you can lay here if you just hold me like you were gripping the armrest -_

_RACHEL STOP THIS INSTANT._

"My bad." He winked at her.

"Liar." She stuck her tongue out at him and he had to legit hold himself back from kissing that tongue silly. He moves to the bed across from hers and pulls off his shirt.

"NO-AH. Clothes ON."

_Off._

"What? I get hot when I sleep. You're lucky I'm even wearing shorts." He'll change his game to "woo" Berry, but he gets fucking hot at night.

She sighs. "Fine."

_Oh yes. Yes. Fiiiiiiine._

She rolls over to face the wall. She's completely and utterly confused as to why she's still so turned on by Noah Puckerman. They're not on the plane. She can't use the vulnerability excuse, or the Florence Nightingale syndrome excuse anymore. He's back to being his crass, crude self and normally she brushes it off but for some reason...some reason she can't figure out...

She wants Noah Puckerman.

Badly.

He watches her turn to face the wall. Maybe he was mistaken but he definitely saw something flicker in her eyes when he crawled into her bed. He's not sure what it is - usually, Puck's a master at reading women's body language - but it was...something.

And like he said before, he just needs a glimmer. A spark.

Last chance. Last chance at everything before it all, and she all, walks out of his life probably forever. Rachel Berry was going to Broadway and he was going to LA and their paths would never cross again.

Unless he made them cross.

And made her _un_cross her legs and, fuck, he needs to stop thinking like a dick because that's not going to work on her and she's better than that, anyways.

"Rach, I can't sleep."

She groaned. "Too bad, so sad. I can."

_No I can't, not with you laying two feet away from me._

"Can we play truth or dare?"

"What? In what universe do you think that's an acceptable way to lull yourself to sleep?"

_You're going to ask me to do something sexual and I might not be able to resist._

"Well, it's more fun than plain ol' fuckin' talking."

She sighs. "Fine. But only for a bit._ I _really do need _my _beauty sleep, Noah."

"Shut up, Rach, you do not."

She rolls over to face him and even though the lights are out she can still see his face, lit by the slivers of light peeking through the curtains from the streetlights below. "This," she gestures to her face. "Is not how I want the judges at Nationals to see me tomorrow."

He lifts his head off of the pillow and cocks it to the side. "I think you look gorgeous right now."

She's quiet.

_He does?_

"You...do?" She bites her lip.

_He can't see that right?_

Fuck, she's biting her lip, he thinks. So. Fucking. Ninja. Hot.

"Course I do," He explains quietly. "You're just...always gorgeous."

A silence fills the room.

_I have to do something. I need to fill this silence._

"So!" She says brightly. "Truth or dare, Noah!"

"Truth."

"What's your favorite food?"

"What? That's the best you got?"

"I ask, you answer. That _is _how this works, is it not?"

He sighs. "Fine. It's guacamole. I fucking love guacamole and I will spread that shit on anything." Including you, he thinks.

She smiles. "Ok. Your turn."

If this stays as boring as that first question, it just might actually put him the fuck to sleep.

"Truth or dare, Rachel."

_._

"Umm...truth."

_Yes. Safe. Don't listen to this voice in your head._

"What...what is the one thing you've always wanted but never got?"

Oh.

_Oh._

"A mother."

Oh.

He's quiet, because he knows that's the God's honest truth for her. And he, more than anyone else that's close to her, knows how much it hurts to be fucked out of a parent.

"Noah?" She ventures. "Do you remember..." Her voice trails off.

"What?"

"Do you remember that one time, in first grade? Art class?"

He remembers it. He remembers it often. He remembers it really, _really_ well.

"No."

"You..." She stops and bit her lip again and closes her eyes. "You gave me tissue paper flowers. I cried because we were making Mothers Day gifts and you gave me the tissue paper flowers you had made."

And she gave _him_ his first kiss that day and he has never fucking forgotten it but this has the potential to get real heavy real quick and he's not fucking sure if he's fucking ready for heavy. Heavy isn't his territory but he knows shit has to get heavy before he gets anywhere but, fuck, heavy.

It is entirely possible that Noah Puckerman is starting to pussy out of all this.

"Oh. Right," He feigned nonchalance.

_Liar, I know he remembers._

"That was one of the sweetest things someone has ever done for me, Noah." She props herself up on her elbow in bed.

"S'nothin'," He shrugs it off. "You were sad."

She opens her eyes to look right into those hazel eyes, hazel eyes that, for a short moment, she sees..._something_ in them. And as quick as that something comes in, it washes away.

"Plus, I was obviously awesomer at doing something then you and I needed to show you."

He gets how that memory is a connection to not having a mom, but there were a million other things she could have said, or not said, after her answer. He's such a pussy. She gave him an in. He could have twisted this and been in her bed already.

But it's just not...right. He doesn't want to give her a cheap line. He doesn't want to manipulate this, he doesn't want to manipulate her, but he's just not used to...this. He wants her to...

_He's not capitalizing on this? I gave him an in. I even sat up in bed. _

_I shouldn't have given him an in but, God, I want him in._  
_  
RACHEL THAT'S SO DIRTY._

"So, your turn then. What did you always want but never got?" She asks.

"Not how it works," he replies. "I get to choose, truth or dare."

"Nope. If I do recall correctly, the rules of truth or dare state that the questioner has to be prepared to answer the same question from the questionee."

"The fuck did you just say?"

"You have to be prepared to answer whatever question you ask me, Noah."

Rachel Berry likes rules.

He sighs. "A chance."

"What?"

_Does he mean...?_

"Just...a chance. I've always wanted, but never got, a chance from anyone to prove I'm not a Lima Loser. That I do have fucking dreams and goals and shit. That I'm not just some guy who knocked up Quinn Fabray or had sex with cougars. That I'm someone who wants to do the right thing and tries to do the right thing. But no one gives me that chance and just thinks I'm one big fuck up because of a few fucking mistakes."

_Oh, Noah._

It's not about sex right now. It's not about getting him to kiss her or touch her.

She just wants to, she needs to, crawl into his bed and be with him because her heart aches for the boy who never thinks he's good enough, who never thinks anyone else thinks he's good enough.

She doesn't wait for an invitation, she just throws back her own covers and pads over to his bed and nudges him over with her knee as she crawls in and snuggles next to him. He puts his arm around her and pulls her closer; she rests her head underneath his chin and puts her arm around his torso.

"What?" He murmurs.

"I just...needed to be here." She whispers.

_Yes._

"Right here?" He whispers back.

"Yes. Right. Here."

She knows what it's like for someone to have this predisposition about you, a predetermined notion that you can't shake no matter how hard you try. How you wake up every single day and you want to be the best you you can be but it's never, ever, any good for the people who (you think) matter. How hard you try to be everything, to everyone, and you fall short, but the only person whose opinion should matter is yourself. And she's always been sure of herself but the rest of the world, they didn't want to give her an ounce of that assuredness.

How hard it must be when your own opinion is the never good enough one. She squinches her eyes shut to try and stop the burning sensation that foretells inevitable tears.

"Hey...hey?" He pushes her away a bit to meet her eyes. "Hey."

She lifts her hand up to wipe off a rogue tear that snuck out. "Nothing. I'm fine. I cry. It's what I do."

"I didn't even say anything...why...the crying?"

She's quiet.

_Carpe diem, Rachel,_ she thinks.

She locks her eyes on his.

_Yes._

"Noah. Truth or dare?"

"Dare."

Her voice is no more than a whisper and he can barely make out the words. "I dare you to kiss me."

His eyes are strong on hers as he tangles his hand up in her hair and pulls her head to him. She tastes like strawberries and amazingness, and his tongue draws circles around her lips, kneading them open because he just needs to taste more. She sighs softly into his mouth as his other arm encircles her and pulls her under him as he settles himself on his knees, straddling her. He can't stop. He doesn't want to stop. Ever. Her lips feel so perfect on his. She nibbles on his bottom lip lightly, and he groans.

Fuck, he's forgotten how fucking hot making out with Rachel was. His tongue chases hers, swirls around hers, and while his one arm is propping himself up as to not crush her, his other hand is in her hair, on her face, cupping her cheek, fingers stroking her cheek.

She closes her eyes and weaves her fingers into the back of his mohawk, sighing in ecstasy as his lips flutter down her jaw, her hairline, her neck, settling in on the u shaped part of her collarbone and she gasps.

He could spend all day on her. All day, all night, exploring every inch of her mouth with his tongue, and then re-exploring, and then re re-exploring, because he adores these gasps and moans and sounds and he can't get enough of them.

His hand moves from her face and he trails his fingertips down her side and toys with the hem of her tshirt. He doesn't want to move too fast. He actually doesn't want to move at all unless she is on board with it.

Because this isn't a hook up. He doesn't want it to be just a hook up. And he knows Rachel Berry doesn't just hook up, but he just needs clearance.

He pulls away.

_He pulls away_?

"Wh-what?" Her eyelids are drooping lazily over her eyes and her lips are swollen and she looks just so...amazing.

"Truth or dare, Rachel?"

"Tr...truth?"

He takes her face into his hands and sets his forehead against hers, forcing her to open her eyes fully and look at him. "Do you want me to continue? Cause...God. This isn't a truth or dare game anymore. Fuck. This...this is us. This is an _us_."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:** Still don't own Puck or Rachel or Glee._

**A/N:** THANK YOU SO MUCH for all your awesome reviews! One more chapter after this. And be forewarned…here be smut.

**Turbulence Part 3**

"An...us?"

He sighs and closes his eyes. Fuck if he thought shit was heavy before. Time to lay all the motherfucking cards on the motherfucking table right now.

"I'm not doing anything with you that's just going to be a fucking, wham bam the end thing," He explains. "I've waited for three fucking years, fuck, for, like twelve fucking years if we want to be fucking honest, for you to be just Rachel and not Finn's Rachel, and I'm not going to just fuck and flee."

"Oh, so we're _fucking_ now?"

Oops. He kind of got ahead of himself there. (But holy fuck, Rachel saying the word "fuck"? Fuuuuuuuuck.)

"That's not what I meant." He tries to backpedal because his dick is pretty much retreating into itself because she's probably going to chop it off right now and fuck, if he just ruined their moment and shit.

"What if I..." She swallows hard. "Want it to be what you meant?"

Oh?

Oh.

Well then.

"Soo...that's a yes, yes?" A hint of a smirk crosses his face.

_Fuck yes, Noah._

She nods emphatically.

He crashes down on her lips again, more urgent, more passionate than before because who needs air, seriously have you felt this girl's lips _who needs the fucking oxygen_?

Wait. He pulls away again.

"NOAH." She's whining.

"Are you absolutely sure of all this?" He needs her to be sure.

She gives him an annoyed look.

_NOAH. STOP WITH ALL THE STOPPING._

"Geez. I just fucking like you. A lot, ok?"

_Oh. Well then. Don't stop with the stopping if you're going to say things like that._

She smiles. "Truth or dare, Noah?"

He full out smirks now. "Dare."

"Don't you _dare_ stop any more."

"I'm seriously done now, babe."

She wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into her. It's her turn. He feels her eyelashes against his cheek and he legit shudders because, fuck, she's kissing his jaw, she's sucking and flicking his earlobe with her tongue and _fuck_,Rachel.

She wraps one leg around him and uses her heel to push his hips hard into hers and he thinks he might have just broken her. Instead, she moans into his neck as she feels him harden against her.

He's not waiting for an invitation anymore; he rips her t shirt up and over her head and fuck _yes_ chicks don't sleep with bras. Her boobs are amazing and he's got one handful and one mouthful and he's teasing and she's moaning and he's groaning and she's groaning and then he nibbles a little bit on her and she gives off this squeaky gasp and he just about comes in his pants right there.

And, oh fuck, she grinds her hips up against him and he really needs to think of something unsexy because basketball shorts and boxers provide no shield against her fucking hips and her friction and those _fucking hips_.

She thinks she's about to die and go to heaven because Noah is lapping on her breasts like they're water and he's in the Mojave desert and she feels herself ready to rip in two. She wants to, _needs to_, ease the friction she feels throbbing within her, so she rubs herself against him.

She knew he was good. But she never thought he could get her off just by a few kisses. He hasn't even touched her below the waist and she's about ready to burst. Her fingertips and nails scratch the back of his neck, up to behind his ear as his tongue and hands and fingers and, _oh God, Noah, your thumbs_, on each and every inch of her chest.  
His hand flutters down her stomach and grips her hip, his thumb stroking circles on her skin above the waistband of her underwear, teasing the elastic until she moans, "Please, oh please, God Noah, please..."

He wisps his fingers over her hip, over the curve of her lower back, then back to her hip, down her leg, and slowly rubs his knuckles in between her legs over her panties and, fuck, she is soaked and once again he's about to come for the, like, fifth time in the last 60 seconds because, _fuck_, Rachel.

She's going to explode. That's it, she's going to rip apart and fly out of her body because he's teasing her to the point of spontaneous combustion and his mouth is still sucking on her but his hand is working magic in between her legs and then he knuckles her bundle of nerves and she falls completely apart, whimpering and breathing heavy and the world lights up in a firey ball behind her eyes.

The absolute best sound in the entire universe is a Rachel Berry orgasm. He decides right then and there that he wants to go deaf so that's the last sound he ever has ringing in his ears. He hasn't even dipped into her panties and touched her skin to skin and she's already climaxed.

He's making it his mission to get more out of her. But first, he needs to scale back a bit and let her ride her high and come down. He eases his touch, he moves back up to her mouth, and he just gives gentle kisses, cradling her face, brushing her hair back as her breathing slows.

He's going to bring that pulse right back up.

When he hears her breath even out, he begins to kiss his way down her chest, down her stomach and pauses to look up at her as he rests his chin on her waist.

She's gorgeous. Stunning. Face is flushed red, hair tousled and sexy, big brown eyes, pupils wide and her lips parted and panting.

"Noah..."

He's gonna make this girl scream, he wants to bring her up and then let her down and bring her right back up even higher. He works his way down her legs, nibbling the back of her knee, rubbing his hand up and down her calf and those legs, fuck, those legs. He trails kisses down her left calf. She needs something, something to hold on to, something to grasp, and for awhile his mohawk, his head, was just perfect but it's out of her reach. So she fists the bedsheets in her hands as he flutters little kisses around her ankle, moving to the other leg and repeating his pattern, working his way back up to her waist.

He slowly guides her pajamas shorts and panties off of her hips in one shot, and nibbles his way around her hip, her thigh, her inner thigh, alternating between kisses and pressure and light and gentle and nibble and then sets to work at giving her a hickey on her inner thigh because he may be gentle, he may be in love (in _love_, fuck) with Rachel Berry, but he marks his territory and, yes, she moans and groans louder as he sucks on her thigh and he doesn't think he's even been harder in his entire life.

She's still trying to regain feeling in her legs from the first orgasm and Noah already is working on a second. She feels slightly guilty because she's done nothing for him, nothing to him, and he's back on her already but then he sucks on her thigh and a guttural sound that she doesn't recognize as her own voice escapes her throat.

He changes his pressure to light and gentle and he gives tiny kisses as he makes his way up to settle in between her legs, taking a moment to, again, look up at her, questioning her, making sure that it's, yes, ok?

_YesohGodyesyesGodyesit'sokpleaseNoahplease._

He flicks his tongue inside of her once, lightly, twice, harder, the third time adding his finger, and he feels her clench around him. She tightens her knees around his head, she tugs at his mohawk, and he begins a pattern of nibbles and sucks and circles and flicks and pumping on her, alternating his tongue and his thumb and, here comes number two, and it's harder and faster and more explosive and she sees shooting stars and fireworks and sunlight courses through her veins as she cries his name over and over again in one breath.

He smiles against her.

She pulls him up by his shoulders, kissing him hard, rolling him over onto his back and straddling him, as she pulls his shorts and boxers down and (_fuck yes_) he hears an (almost) inaudible gasp when she first sees the size of him.

Yeah, he's kind of awesome in that area.

And then it's all lips and hands and her tongue around his tip and then _throat _and then he feels _back of throat, _and then _fuckfuckfuck_ and he has hold her head and stop her because he's going to come and it's not going to be in her mouth, the fuck if he's going to blow it now, he needs to ride it out with her at the same time.

She smiles and hums around him as her tongue draws circles. She loves seeing him completely lose control; it turns her on more than she could imagine.

"RachelRachelRachel, oh My God, God, Fuck, fuuuuuuuck..." He stops her. "Rach, stop, you gotta stop...Oh God."

She looks up at him with innocent doe eyes. "Oh?"

"The fuck's my wallet?" He reaches around on the nightstand until his hand makes contact and he whips out a condom. She grabs it.

"I'll do it."

Fuck does he love this girl.

He rolls her over onto her back and she unrolls the condom onto him. "You sure? Rach...yes?"

"Oh God, Noah, yes, yes." He enters her in one swift moment and stops, leaning his forehead onto hers, locking his eyes on hers.

"What? Noah, why did you stop?"

"I just want to feel you. Just you, nothing else. Just for a moment."

And that's the moment. The moment where everything, her past and her present all make absolute sense and she is determined for her future to be one with him in it.

After that one moment, that one perfect, time stopping, earth shattering moment, it's all push and pull and moans and groans and whimpers and pants and gasps and they both come hard and fast and at the same time and as he collapses onto her afterwards he feels her tears on his cheek.

And it's all just...

Perfect.

***

He's laying behind her with his arm encircling her waist, her back against his chest, both of them in a sweaty and exhausted and glowing tangle. Her legs are tangled around his and she's wearing only his t shirt. She buries her nose in the collar to smell the scent of woods and aftershave and _him_.

"So, twelve years?" She asks.

"Fuck, Rachel, you think I gave you those flowers in first grade because I wanted to show off?" She swats his arm. "You were so fucking sad, and I just didn't want you to be sad anymore. Fuck if I didn't realize it when I was six, but seriously."

"What made you wait so long?" She asks.

"God. I'm kind of a dick, haven't you noticed? And I fucked up the first time when we dated, and then you've been with Finn so long and you only needed me when it had something to do with him. And I'm not going to play fucking second string to Finn fucking Hudson anymore."

She's quiet, remembering guiltily all the times she used Noah to get back at Finn. Perhaps, she realizes now, there was a little more truth and a little less use in all that. "I'm sorry."

"Don't fucking apologize for shit you can't change."

"But still..."

"Still nothing. I fucked up too, and it's in the fucking past and, fuck, I'll give you a second chance if you give me one."

"Deal."

She snuggles into him deeper and he may just be ready for another round but fuck if he kind of wants to just snuggle with her right now and shut up.

"So now what?" She asks. "Where do we go now?"

"Well, first, we set the deadbolt on the door like we should have before this all started," He says. "Fucking thank Moses that Tina or anyone else didn't come back."

"You go do it."

"Fuck no. You're on the outside, little spoon."

"But I'm so comfy and I don't wanna mooove." She whines.

"You're fucking lucky that you're kinda cute when you whine like that." He gets up to set the deadbolt.

He crawls back into bed with her and pulls her back into his chest. "And now we go the fuck to sleep and at 5am I'll sneak back to my room."

She yawns. "So tired."

"You're welcome."

"You're an ass."

"You fucking love it."

"Maybe."

_God, yes._

He kisses the back of her head. "G'night, Rach."

"Night, Noah."

Despite the night's developments, the confessions, the tears, the pleasure, oh God, the pleasure, the _Noah Puckerman_ of it all, Rachel drifts to sleep with a heavy heart, filled with worries of Nationals and college and Broadway and how this new development with Noah will fit into her plan.

She won't give up New York. She almost made that mistake the first time; she's not losing herself again.

***

She sleeps through her alarm at 5am, waking briefly to feel Noah's lips on her forehead as he whispers, "Later." She doesn't remember him leaving the room, but when she opens her eyes at 8am, she sees Tina sleeping in the bed across from her, and a folded piece of paper with a yellow post it note, on the nightstand next to her.

She sits up, rubs the sleep from her eyes and reads the post it first:

"I follow my own path...just might happen to cross yours, babe. -N"

Confused, she opens up the paper and reads:

"Dear Mr. Puckerman, We are pleased to offer you a spot in the Class of 2016 at CUNY, the City University of New York..."


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N:**__Still don't own Glee, Puck, or Rachel. THANK YOU SO MUCH TO ALL MY REVIWERS! Love you guys!_**  
**

**Epilogue**

Two dorms. One coffeeshop barista job, one bartender job.

Two off-off Broadway shows, one off-Broadway show, two rehabilitation facility internships.

Two jubilant, well earned, college graduations. One sports medicine degree, one fine arts degree.

One apartment.

Numerous fights.

Numerous make ups and intense make outs and kisses of "I'm sorry", and caresses of "No_, I'm_ sorry" through tears and touches and embraces.

One garbage bag of clothes thrown down the hallway. One cell phone flushed down the toilet. Another, a year later. Two holes punched in two walls on two different occasions. One broken glass.

Innumerable yells of, "you're so selfish!", on both accounts.

Innumerable whispers and promises and reassurances of, "I love yous." On both accounts.

Innumerable expressions of, "You're gorgeous", "you make me a better person," "you're everything", "I'm so proud of you."

On both accounts.

All leading to one high school reunion, one flight booked from NY to Lima, OH.

Two passengers.

He still fucking hates planes. Yes, _all_ the times he went home from NY he drove. Yes, _drove_ (Zipcar, for the win). He fucking hates flying and even with his girl by his side, and his Dramamine and Xanax stowed securely in his _carry on bag_ (fuckyouverymuch) he still fucking hates flying.

They're on their way back to Lima for their ten year high school reunion. They haven't been strangers to Lima, always returning for holidays. Lately though, he couldn't get off from work at the rehab center and she was busy starring in her _first_ bit part on Broadway.

But they were both able to score three days away this May, "only three days, Noah!" for the reunion. So she convinced him to actually_ fly_ back to Lima and not waste any of those three days on driving.

It's only an hour flight. And he's got his drugs.

But he's a shit ton nervous, and it's not about the flight.

The line at security snakes through the waiting area and he's pissed, legit tapping his foot all high-school-Rachel-Berry-like, because, God, he just wants to _go_ already and get on the fucking plane and get to Lima cause he's got _shit to do_.

Rachel laughs at him. "Noah," She crosses her arms. "You can't be nervous about flying again. You packed your Dramamine and Xanax in the carry on this time, right? There's not even any checked baggage. Will you calm down?"

"Whatever, this line's so fucking long and I'm just," He fumbles. "Fucking hungry. I want a taco."

"Oh my God, seriously?" She shakes her head, but she's smiling.

_This boy. Just...this boy._

He sighs aggravatedly and moves to adjust the duffel bag on his shoulder.

He's all hers. He's been all hers since that night in Miami during Nationals (she smiles to herself, remembering the big kiss he smacked on her lips, in front of everyone, when she had hoisted the first place trophy up). It hasn't been all unicorns and rainbows the past ten years, but that's them. They're electric, whether it's on or off. And it's perfect and very much not boring, and she wouldn't want it any other way.

She nestles her arm into his and takes his hand. "Are you excited to go back?"

"I'm always psyched to eat ma's lasagna," He replies. "S'not like we've never gone back to Lima before."

This time though?

This time's going to be different.

They finally make it to the front of the line and he places her bag, his duffel, and the contents of his pockets on the conveyer belt. He watches her go through the little metal detector doorway (fuck, his appreciation for that ass will never get old) and he takes his turn, all is well, go to get the bags from the conveyor.

Beep beep! "Who's bag is this red and blue Indians duffel?"

Fuck. "Mine." He replies.

"Needs to be searched by hand. Step over here, please."

Fuckfuckfuck. Calm down, Puckerman, could be fine, they wouldn't go through each individual item, right?

He glances at Rachel. "You go on ahead, babe, I'll meet up with you." He lets go of her hand and nudges her shoulder towards the Arrivals and Departures board.

She shakes off his arm. "No big deal, I can wait. I don't want us to get separated."

No, fuck, Rachel, please, _please fucking go_ and I'll catch up.

Plan B. He can block her view. He shifts around to point his back towards her as the TSA agent takes his boxers, t shirts, a pair of jeans, out of his carry on.

Fuck if she doesn't walk up next to him and take his hand and look all fucking doe-eyed up at him. "I'm excited to see Quinn and Finn. Ooh, and Quinn's baby belly! I wonder if she's showing yet."

Gah. Is it possible to love someone for being adorable and hate them at the same fucking time?

She rests her head against his bicep. "I just can't wait for -"

Hurryuphurryuphurryup, no don't take that out -

The TSA agent pulls out a tiny black velvet box. "Oh, ok, this is what was setting the detector off."

MOTHER.

FUCKER.

FUCKING FUCK SAFETY AND FUCK YOU TSA AGENT ROT IN HELL FUCK.

_Was that...?_

_No._

_Was it?_

He snatches the box out of the TSA agent's hand and shoves it into his pocket. "Awesome, thanks, bye."

Rachel's eyes are as big as saucers. "Noah? What was -"

"Nothing, fine, taco, I want, let's go." He grabs his bag off the table, shoots the dirtiest look he can (legally) muster at the TSA agent, and whips around. Putting his hand on the small of her back, he tries to steer her away.

C'mon, Rachel, moveonmoveonmoveonmoveon.

"No, Noah, really, what was that?"

_It was, wasn't it?_

_OH MY GOD IT WAS._

"Fuck, quit it Rachel, let's just go, I'm hungry, was nothing. Nothing."

Motherfucking fucking TSA agent fuck this security let the whole plane go down with the fucking terrorists because fucking A that douche just fucking ruined _everyfuckingthing_.

He pushes his fingers into his eyes and rubs his hand down his face, because, fuck _he _ruined itdidn't he? He should have put the ring somewhere else, shipped it home to his ma, somewhere safer, fuck, he never thinks these things through. He always ruins everything and the one thing, that one earth fucking shattering moment she deserves, he shits it up.

She sees a red flush appear on his cheeks as he palms his face, and her guilt starts creeping up on her.

_I'm always so nosy, oh God, Rachel, why did you keep pestering him? I'm probably just imagining things anyways, I'm sure it was nothing. A gift for his mom or something. Fix it, Rachel, fix it._

"Noah. Please. Stop?" She stops two feet away from the security checkpoint and puts her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being nosy, please, it's ok, it's nothing, I already forgot what we're even talking about."

Fuck it. Carpe fucking diem and maybe the fact that nothing was ever as they expected anyways so fuck it all. He drops his bag on the floor right there, right in front of the Arrivals and Departures board and in between all the people leaving the security checkpoint and this one douche gives him a dirty look and fuck you dude, TSA just fucked me over so fuck.

He pulls the box out of his pocket and turns it around and around in his hand, looking down, not meeting her eyes.

_Oh...?_

"S'not all perfect, I had it fucking perfect, I had it all set up, on the bleachers at McKinley with candles and my guitar and those lilies you love and I had a speech and shit..."

He flips open the box and drops to his knee and locks his eyes on hers.

_OH._

_MY._

_**GOD.**_

"And I just...my life's so better, always been so much better, with you in it and I just want you to be in it forever because it would suck balls without you."

The world keeps moving around them but all she sees are those hazel eyes looking back at her and -

"I just...I just really fucking love you, Rach. So...marry me? I mean, fuck, will you? Marry me?"

She can't stop shaking and there are tears running down her cheeks and she can't wipe the smile off her face but she nods her head so empathically, Puck thinks she might have whiplash.

He doesn't think he can grin any wider as he slides the 3-diamond white gold band on her finger. She pulls him up and flings herself into his arms all rabid spider monkey-like, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck and she's kissing him and kissing him and kissing him and the entire security checkpoint starts fucking clapping like out of a fucking movie and she's crying and shut the fuck up he's not crying he's just got something in his eye and fuck if it is all pretty much perfect.

He fucking hates flying.

But airports...they're not too bad.


End file.
